Page 79 of The Knight Who Loved Me
She heard Wallace repeat her name and she shook her head. “Forgive me. I have been…distracted.”
He smiled, and his face and hair seemed golden. He walked her to the tiltyard, where together they stood and watched William train. Her squire was growing to be an accomplished man, and she was proud of him. They spoke about William’s fostering, and Isabel tried to enjoy the attention Wallace gave her.
But she couldn’t keep James from her thoughts. She wondered why he had not accompanied them to the tiltyard, when he usually took every opportunity to impress a guest. Was he still not feeling well?
That would explain their nights, when James often retired to bed before she did. He never touched her, never kissed her. She knew the loss of his fingers bothered him. Was he punishing her for making the decision that saved his life? Or had one hour exploring her body been all that he needed to quench his curiosity?
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James entered his bedchamber just as Isabel was changing for supper. For a moment, he thought she might want to impress her friend, and he didn’t know whether to be happy or jealous. Then he saw the doublet she’d chosen to wear, instead of one of the many gowns hung up on pegs on the walls. And his temper snapped.
He tossed every male article of clothing into a chest and locked it. Isabel calmly watched him, wearing only a white shirt that showed the intriguing shadows of her body. He could see the dark indentation at the top of her thighs. He tried not to stare at her, but he glanced again over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice layered with amusement.
By the saints, she was laughing at him. What kind of earl was he, if no one could respect him?
“You’re wearing this lovely dress I have picked out for you.” He held up a gown, the color of the sky just after sunset, shot with silver threads.
She looked at it impassively. “It would look adequate on your sister. Why don’t you give it to her as a gift?”
He tossed it onto the bed. “Because I had it made for you.”
“You’re wearing out your seamstresses making things I will not wear.”
“You have no choice,” he said smugly. “You either wear it or go naked.”
“Fine.” She loosened the laces of her shirt and it fell from her body.
She was utter perfection in female form, so tall and rounded and definitely not delicate. Feeling triumphant, James held out the dress with his good hand and tried not to think of throwing her down on the bed.
Instead, unabashedly naked, she went to the door and opened it. He gaped as she began to walk down the corridor.
She wouldn’t, James thought in disbelief, his triumph fading. Her lovely backside moved in a hypnotic rhythm. Her long black hair hid her back. Her breasts and everything else would be in full view to whoever walked out of a room or came up the stairs.
Yet still he didn’t call her back. She would turn modest coward soon enough. He slammed the door closed and waited for her frantic knock. Minutes passed but nothing happened. He broke into a sweat.
James told himself he didn’t care if she embarrassed herself or that the whole castle would see what was only for his private pleasure. Isabel may not look much like a woman in her male garments, but she was all woman underneath, more than any of his men could bear.
He slammed open the door and went running down the corridor, but she was gone. He called her name, causing more than a few servants to look at him in consternation. He ran down the stairs, and came to a stop.
Knights and soldiers, travelers and servants, all were beginning to take seats at the trestle tables for dinner to be served. Wallace and William were speaking together before one of the hearths, and both turned to him with almost identical looks of bewilderment. Isabel was nowhere to be seen.
James beamed a wide grin and did what seemed to come harder and harder lately—entertain his guests no matter what his mood. It was so difficult to keep his bandaged, mangled hand hidden. He still wanted to gesture with it, hold a tankard with it. He had grown resigned to eating at a slow pace with his left hand so he wouldn’t drop food down his doublet.
But there would be no meal until Isabel arrived. Where had she gone?
~oOo~
Isabel ducked into James’s wardrobe chamber and closed the door, panting from exertion. She had hidden in the first room she could find, waiting for her husband to go running past. When he’d gone, she hadn’t dared enter their bedchamber. Instead, in the dark, she grabbed the first garment she could find and hurriedly dressed. She took a deep breath, opened the door and walked down the corridor.
The great hall was ablaze with candles, heated to comfortable warmth by massive fires—and suddenly very, very silent. She kept a cool facade as she watched every face turn towards her. William looked uncomfortable, Wallace looked amused. Her husband’s face was blank.
She wasn’t quite certain why they all stared. What if this was her future, always the outsider, never a true woman or wife, scared because she finally wanted to be one?
James tried to smile at his guests. He held his hand behind him, and it ached with pain as he tried to move it, reminding him of everything he’d never do again. He was less a man now.Isabellooked better in his clothing than he did.
Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Although she’d meant to garb herself as sport, she was stunning in the rich blue velvet. The embroidered sleeves were slashed to show her white silk shirt. In a gown that color at court, she would steal every man’s breath away with her dark, exotic beauty. As she came the rest of the way down the stairs, head held proudly, James recognized the silence for what it was: appreciative. Isabel was very easy to look at, although he’d once sworn it wasn’t so.
